John Wull shrugged his shoulders and turned his back.
“Now, Mister Wull,” said Jehoshaphat, firmly, “I ’low I can’t stand this much longer. I ’low we can’t be fools much longer an’ get back t’ Satan’s Trap. I got a sail, here, Mister Wull; but, ecod! the beat t’ harbor isn’t pleasant t’ think about.”
“You better go home,” sneered old John Wull.
“I ’low I will,” Jehoshaphat declared.
Old John Wull came to the windward edge of the ice, and there stood frowning, with his feet submerged. “What was you sayin’?” he asked. “That you’d go home?”
Jehoshaphat looked away.
“An’ leave me?” demanded John Wull. “Leave me? Me?”
“I got t’ think o’ my kids.”
“An’ you’d leave me t’ die?”
“Well,” Jehoshaphat complained, “’tis long past supper-time. You better give in.”